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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015640">I Am Unfinished</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwalker/pseuds/mtwalker'>mtwalker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baker AU, F/M, I don't know what you'd call this, M/M, Neighbors, gardener au, slowburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:13:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwalker/pseuds/mtwalker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are neighbors who start leaving notes for each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dean: Blueberry Muffins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a bad day at work. To be fair, there were very few good days at the bookstore, but today had been especially bad. Teens liked to use the bookstore as a hangout spot, which meant that Dean had to be the one to usher them out. He’d had to keep that up about once every hour, which was just starting to get exhausting when he was cornered by a man asking for book recommendations. Dean had rattled off the couple titles he vaguely remembered, but the guy kept asking for summaries and themes and plot details until he couldn’t help but snap. His father, of course, had picked this moment to finally emerge from the back office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean threw himself down on his couch, groaning loudly. John Winchester was rarely in a good mood as it was, but seeing Dean shout at a customer? Yeah, that hadn’t ended well. Blah blah blah irresponsible. Blah blah blah disappointment. Same old story. Dean just wished it would hurt less every time he heard it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was staring blankly into the backyard from his spot on the couch when he spied them; perfectly ripe blueberries along the fence line in his neighbor’s yard. His spirits lifted a little upon seeing them, thinking of all the things he could make if he had them. Muffins, pancakes, pies, you name it. Yeah, baking sounded like a good idea right now. He pulled himself up and headed into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Baking always managed to lift his spirits after a particularly shitty day at work, so he set to pulling out eggs and milk and started on some muffin batter. With a free hand, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of all the ingredients, sending it to his little brother before selecting a classic rock playlist that Spotify had recommended. This is what he needed; good distractions and the smell of food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he stirred the batter, he couldn’t help but think about those blueberries again. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be good in some muffins. He’d never met his neighbor. Honestly, he couldn’t think of any time he’d actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> his neighbor. It couldn’t hurt to ask, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean sat the bowl to the side, dusting the flour off his Metallica shirt before heading back out of the house. His neighbor’s half of the duplex was equally tiny, and the lights seemed to be off, but Dean wasn’t giving up just yet. He cut through the grass and knocked on the faded door, but was met with silence. He frowned, knocking a little harder this time, but still nothing. The universe was really out to get him today, huh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he trudged back to his house, he spotted the bush again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I bet I could climb that fence.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought came out of nowhere, and Dean was quick to shake it off, but he had to admit that it was compelling. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> climb that fence. He and Sam had climbed many fences growing up, and the one connecting their yards wasn’t exactly a challenge. Besides, it was just some blueberries. He wasn’t going to ransack the guy’s house or something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having fully convinced himself, Dean shoved a plastic bag into his pocket and set to scaling his fence. As he predicted, it took only a few seconds to hop down to the grass on the other side, pick a couple handfuls of blueberries, and head back. What he didn’t account for, however, was for his neighbor to pull into the driveway as he was halfway over the fence. The sound of the Continental pulling in startled him so much that he jumped, knocking himself over the fence and landing hard in his own yard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laying there in the grass, the regret really started to sink in. That had looked bad. His neighbor would call the cops. This was the last thing he needed. Well, maybe he could make it up to them. He’d give them a muffin or something. Surely they would understand, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hopped up, running back inside before he had time to dwell on it more. Once the muffins were in the oven, he pulled out a scrap of paper and began scribbling down a note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m your neighbor. You may have seen me fall over your fence a couple hours ago. I’m gonna be honest, it looked worse than it was. I did steal some of your blueberries, though, so here’s a muffin as payment. Don’t call the cops or anything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean Winchester</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Castiel: Lemons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Castiel stared at the plastic container on his counter, as if the single blueberry muffin contained within held all of the secrets of the universe. He couldn’t remember the last time he had honestly received a gift from someone who wasn’t his twin brother, Jimmy. Of course, this was just a muffin. It didn’t have some grand meaning. Except, for Cas, it did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone processes stuff differently. Jimmy and Cas had grown up in an incredibly strict household, which was the nice way of saying that they had lived in constant fear of their parents. Their parents were incredibly religious, in the cult-adjacent way, and both had fierce tempers. Jimmy had grown up and become a therapist, deciding to use his experiences to help others have a better life. It was admirable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel had tried to do something similar. He’d gone to a vocational school, taken a few nursing classes, and gotten on at a local hospital. While Jimmy had met the love of his life and had a beautiful daughter, Cas had holed up in a duplex, alone. Most days he didn’t even bother to turn on the lights, preferring to stumble around in the dark until the sun blinded him when he finally left for work. The only point of pride were his plants. He had dozens upon dozens of pots scattered around his living room and backyard. Plants, Cas found, didn’t ask a lot of you. They just liked your company and a little of your time. They didn’t expect you to be better than you were. Some mornings, the plants were the only reason he got out of bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today has been one of those days. Cas didn’t have to work, and he’d barely gotten an hour of sleep between the nightmares and the panic that had followed. But his plants needed him, so he stumbled out of bed, even though his body felt like it was made of lead and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and never move again. It was a good thing, too, since within the next hour he’d gotten an emergency call from the hospital and had to rush out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The surprise hospital shift combined with an extreme lack of sleep made for a terrible drive home where Cas decided that the best thing to do for the rest of the day was to curl up on his couch and re-read The Ocean at the End of the Lane. The fact that the book was about repressed trauma was not lost on him, especially since Jimmy commented on it every time he came over. But it was a quick and familiar read, and usually did an alright job of moderately lifting Cas’s spirits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had just gotten to the part where the grandmother was cutting out the boy's bad memories when there was a knock at his door. This startled him, making him drop the book. No one knocked here. No one came looking for Cas. He crept to the door, opening it just an inch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing. No one. He opened it a bit more, curiosity overriding any fear that remained. Sitting in the center of his porch was a Tupperware container, a note held to the top with a small rock. He’d picked them both up, sitting the rock to the side, and brought them in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, here he was, staring at a muffin on his counter. He really should eat it. He unfolded the note again, reading it over for the tenth time. It wasn’t very long, but the fact that someone had considered what he thought of them… it twisted at his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to repay them. Not only did it feel like something that needed to be done, but there was a part of him that liked the idea of sharing his plants with someone else. Knowing that something he’d put his heart into, like his blueberry bush, had inspired someone, made him feel like he was a part of something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Cas went over to the small lemon tree by his back door and picked the two best lemons he could find, sitting them gently in a paper bag. He pulled out a bit of yellow lined paper and scratched out a note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for the muffin. I was out working an extra shift, so I really needed something to lift my spirits. Next time, feel free to take whatever you need, I don’t use most of the stuff I grow anyway. I’ve included some lemons that maybe you can use in whatever you make next. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Castiel Novak</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dean: Lemon Blueberry Bread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean heard the front door creak open and couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. It had been a few weeks since he had seen his younger brother and, while he would never admit it, he really missed the guy. Sammy had been a point of light in Dean's life ever since their mother, Mary, had died. It wasn’t like he was gonna get any joy from his dad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean!” Sam’s booming voice called from the front.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In here!” Dean shouted back, wiping flour onto his jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That for me?” Sam asked, gesturing to the bowl of batter on the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you’re convincing.” Dean pulled his brother into a tight hug, smacking him on the back and making the taller man laugh. “When are you getting a haircut? Surely Eileen’s said something about it by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Says it makes me look laid back.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s lying to you.” Dean smacked Sam’s outstretched hand, which had been making a move for the flour-covered blueberries. “Paws off, Sammy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is that, anyway?” Dean turned back to the counter, mixing the blueberries in with the batter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lemon blueberry bread. Thought it sounded good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really good, apparently. You’re making two loaves.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not for me. My neighbor, he’s the one who gave me the lemon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me you were talking to your neighbor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t say talking…” Dean sighed, shaking his head before pouring the batter into the two pans. “We’ve sort of been… passing notes back and forth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, like school kids?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Dean gestured to the note that he had left on the small kitchen table. “Look for yourself.” Dean heard Sam make his way over to the table while he shoved the two loaf pans into the oven. To be honest, the note hadn’t asked for more food, just the invitation to take what he needed. Dean couldn’t help but want to share, though. It was what his mother would have wanted, and he felt like the guy deserved to have some of whatever his ingredients had become. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Castiel? That’s an odd name, isn’t it?” Dean turned back to face Sam, leaning back against the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. It sounds really old.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, have you ever even seen this guy? He could be like… eighty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? I just took some berries out of his yard. I’m not gonna kiss him in the moonlight or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it seems a little weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not weird unless you make it weird, man. I just had a bad day at work and wanted to make some muffins. Making some guy happy is just a bonus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam got quiet, fiddling with the edge of the note. “How’s Dad been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s frown deepened and his whole body seemed to tense. “Dad’s Dad. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam sighed. “When are you gonna quit working there, man?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t just leave, Sammy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course you can! What’s stopping you, Dean? Dad? Your weird loyalty to him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That bookshop’s all he’s got left! After Mom-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom’s gone! She has been for years! Just because Dad can’t move on doesn’t mean you should be trapped here with him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Dean warned. “I’m not gonna leave him here alone, Sam. Just because you did-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admit it! You hate it here! You hate working at that stupid store! Dad treats you like shit, I know he does. He always has, Dean.” They were quiet for a minute, staring at each other. Sam finally looked away. “He doesn’t deserve you. You’re worth more than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just… just drop it, Sammy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Sam left, Dean wrapped up half a loaf of the bread for him and Eileen. Sam gave him a tight hug, both of them unwilling to continue the argument form earlier. After Sam drove off, Dean wrapped up the second loaf for Cas, and scribbled out a note.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cas</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here’s some lemon blueberry bread from that lemon you sent. I haven’t gotten a chance to try it yet, but it looks pretty good, so I hope it’s not complete crap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you saw a giant walking into my house earlier, don’t worry. It was just my brother, Sam. He’s a big shot lawyer, so he was working on some case nearby and decided to stop in. He used to be a lot closer, but he moved away for college and fell in love with the city. Well, that and Eileen. I can’t fault him though, she’s pretty great. A real spitfire, which is good. Someone needs to give him crap while I’m not there. I’ve thought about moving out there with him, but I work for my dad’s bookstore here, so I can’t just quit. </span>
  </em>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>I miss</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. Guess it’s just on my mind. You can ignore all that. Hope you like the bread.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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